


something like moving forward

by celestial_nova, ToxicPineapple



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Poetry, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), backseat body owning y'know, it looks like it should be a 5+1 thing but it's not, izu is only here by proxy, tox can write one thing and one thing only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25753837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestial_nova/pseuds/celestial_nova, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: “Ah… Hinata-kun?” Hinata jolted a bit at the unexpected voice. A knock at the open door followed it, and he turned to see Komaeda standing in the doorway, holding a glass in his non-mechanical hand. “I, uh… came to see how you were doing. And brought you something to drink."//While Hinata works on building a robot body for Nanami's AI years after the simulation, Komaeda keeps dropping by and taking care of him, which complicates some emotions for Hinata that were already complicated enough.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime/Nanami Chiaki (past)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 234





	something like moving forward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunflower_8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/gifts).



> happy birthday sun <3

Hinata looked back over his blueprints, checking to make sure he had aligned the metal plates correctly. Logically, he knew there was no need; Ultimate Mechanic was shoved in somewhere in his assortment of talents. He brushed his fingertips over the metal carefully, as if he would break it.   
  
(He could, if he really wanted to. He knows an assortment of ways, and could execute them like it was instinct. 

He didn’t like the thought.)

It made sense for Hinata to be cautious; he was building an android body for Nanami Chiaki. He, alongside Alter Ego, had managed to salvage the AI’s coding from the mess of corrupted data that used to be the Neo World Program. She had been living (could he call it living if she was a program?) in one of the laptops Naegi Makoto had dropped off on his last visit. Souda had spruced it up, of course; “Nothing but the best for Nanami!” he had said. The memory made Hinata smile. 

There were photographs of Nanami scattered around his workspace, ones he had used as reference when drawing up the blueprints and hadn’t thought to remove. Looking at them now - her yearbook photo, a snippet from a class festival, stills of footage from the simulation - a heavy sense of nostalgia rolled over him. It carried with it the aftershocks of mourning for both of her deaths, but also the warm fondness he had felt in the time he got to spend with her. Hinata’s memories were still somewhat hazy, but he could remember their time by the fountain with blissful clarity.

He… really missed her.

A water droplet fell onto the blueprint with a soft  _ plip _ . For a moment, he wondered if he was crying (which, even in an empty room, would have been really embarrassing), before realizing that no, he was just sweating. 

Hinata lifted up the hem of his t-shirt and wiped it across his forehead, and it was then he noticed how hot it had gotten. The island in the simulation had been hot, but never  _ too _ hot; the programming dictated it to be realistically pleasant for the ‘location’. The heat then was no match for the merciless sun of the real island in the middle of summer. Even on the beach, with coastal breezes cutting down the temperature, it was sweltering.

Dropping his shirt, he cast a glance towards the window; his eyes met with the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. Huh. No wonder. Hinata had been so absorbed in his work that he hadn’t noticed the time, and the hottest hours of the day were upon him. Wonderful. 

“Ah… Hinata-kun?” Hinata jolted a bit at the unexpected voice. A knock at the open door followed it, and he turned to see Komaeda standing in the doorway, holding a glass in his non-mechanical hand. “I, uh… came to see how you were doing. And brought you something to drink. But I shouldn’t have, I’m terribly sorry for bothering you, I should just-”   
  
“No, Komaeda, it’s okay,” Hinata cut in before he could tumble down another one of his tangents. “In fact, you have impeccable timing. I was getting a little warm.” Komaeda still had that…  _ look  _ on his face, the uneasy one so unique to him, but it brightened just a little at Hinata’s reassurance.

It was then that Hinata noticed the color of the liquid in the glass. “Oh, is that orange juice?” Komaeda nodded, and Hinata grinned. “My favorite! I didn’t think you remembered.” 

He took the glass from Komaeda’s outstretched hand, studying him a bit as he did. Komaeda, like the others, had been making an effort to spend more time outside - something about being more beneficial to their mental health and recovery. Komaeda was certainly showing the effects, at least physically. His skin had lost the sickly white shade Hinata was used to; it was still pale, but a healthier pale. 

Healthier was a good look for him.   
  
“Ah, Hinata-kun?” Hinata snapped out of his studying, meeting Komaeda’s concerned eyes. “Are you okay? You’re staring… am I so repulsive you can’t look away?”   
  
Hinata sighed.  _ There he goes again.  _ “No, you aren’t repulsive. I was just…” Hm. Saying ‘I was admiring your skin tone’ would sound weird. “...thinking. Nothing important.” 

Hoping to clear the now-awkward air, Hinata took a drink of the orange juice. The contrast of the cold liquid to the heat around him was refreshing, and he ended up downing half the glass in one go. “Ahh… thanks, Komaeda. I really appreciate it.”

“Mmhm!” Komaeda smiled at him - he had a nice smile when he didn’t look… well, deranged. “Should I leave now? I don’t want to taint your progress with my utter lack of talent...”   
  
“No, you can stay,” Hinata blurted out. Komaeda looked about as surprised as he felt.    
  
“...really?”   
  
“Sure, if you want.” He pointed to a chair nearby, trying to act nonchalant even though he had said that completely on a whim. For some reason, unknown to him, he didn’t want Komaeda to leave. Maybe it was because Komaeda’s presence was calming - whenever he wasn’t having a spell, that is. He felt comfortable around him, as unexpected as that was to him. 

Komaeda accepted his offer (part of Hinata had expected him to decline), settling in the chair as Hinata drank the rest of his orange juice and returned to work. They made some small talk amongst themselves, and as awkward as it was, it helped keep Hinata focused. It also kept him grounded, chasing away the temptation to fall back down memory lane. 

Hinata hardly noticed the heat after that. 

* * *

Hinata used his sleeve to mop up a bead of sweat from his forehead, breathing out through his mouth. Man, he was almost starting to think that starting work on this project during late July was a mark of bad judgement on his part. Or-- well, he felt that way already, really. The heat was distracting. Even with the murmur of Kamukura’s Ultimate Mechanic in the back of his mind, he couldn’t focus as well as he would’ve liked to.

It was just that he lacked the impulse control to wait for very long after Nanami’s AI was recovered. As soon as it was an option, Hinata’s (Kamukura’s?) brain was whirring with ideas, with plans for the body, and then he couldn’t sleep.

He still couldn’t really sleep. It was only midday, but Hinata was certain that tonight, like the past couple nights this week, would be spent awake, working on the brain of Nanami’s new body. He had to be especially careful with this part; he was essentially making a computer from scratch, which of course wasn’t a problem for him, but it still took precision. Any extraordinary fuck-ups and Nanami would be buffering even more than she was back in the Neo-World Program.

And, like, it was endearing. The buffering was. But Hinata didn’t want to have a hand in making it worse, if he could help it.

A while in-- Hinata could only judge how much time had passed by the position of the sun overhead, since from where he was sitting he couldn’t see the digital clock on his desk, and that was hard with a roof above him-- he leaned back, taking a breath. He was grateful for the distraction, because it was hard figuring out what to do with himself sometimes living on Jabberwock, but the silence was somewhat oppressive. He would have liked to have music playing, or someone around to talk to.

...Komaeda came to mind, actually, as Hinata recalled the way he sat and kept Hinata company a few days back, but as soon as the thought arrived, Hinata dismissed it. Komaeda was… weird, if sweet, and occasionally nice to talk to. Sure, Hinata would accept his company if offered, but to actually approach the other man and request it… nah.

Besides, it felt strange wanting for it when he was working on Nanami’s body, for reasons Hinata couldn’t quite discern. He resolved to keep his thoughts from straying. Focus on Nanami Chiaki for a while. That was what he was there for, at any rate.

As soon as Hinata started to get back into it, though, there was another knock on his door, the same number of beats, the same amount of hesitation, as last time. Hinata startled again, less because he wasn’t expecting the interruption (Owari showed up the day before wanting Hinata to spar, the answer to which being a resounding no, but also a raincheck,) and more because it was… ironic, that Komaeda showed up, just as Hinata was trying to force thoughts of him back. Regardless, Hinata didn’t lower his gaze again, watching as the other man poked his head through the door, his lips quirking into an instinctively wry smile.

Komaeda was smiling too, albeit anxiously, (as was to be expected from him,) tucking a strand of white hair behind his ear with his mechanical hand, holding a thick book under his arm with the other. He shifted his hand from the side of his face to wave, and Hinata waved back with the screwdriver he was holding, quirking his brows.

“Hey, Komaeda,” Hinata said, before Komaeda could this time, tilting his head to the side.

“Hey!” echoed Komaeda, his smile widening. “Uhm, I really don’t mean to interrupt you again, Hinata-kun, so if this is a bad time, I--”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Hinata waved his screwdriver around, despite himself. “I was just thinking about how quiet it is in here.” Not a lie, technically, but there was no way that Hinata was admitting to Komaeda that he was thinking about the lucky bastard himself. “What’s up?”

“Ah, well, I didn’t bring orange juice this time-- though maybe I should’ve? I’ll do so next time, if you’d like-- but I thought that, uhm, as you said, working in silence might be a bit stifling, so,” Komaeda cut himself off, abruptly, his eyes going a bit wide. “Of course, I didn’t mean to presume that the quiet would be stifling for you, I’m sure you can handle it, I just--”

“Komaeda,” Hinata interrupted, his brow furrowing a touch. “It’s fine, man. Really.” He waited for the other man to settle down before he spoke again. “You’re right, anyway. Is that what the book is for?”

“Yes!” Komaeda brightened, and Hinata thought,  _ cute,  _ before he could stop himself. “It’s an anthology of poems by Emily Dickinson. Do you know of her? Or, rather, as I assume you’ve heard of her,” Komaeda smiled wryly, “do you know her well?”

Hinata scrunched up his nose. “Hold on,” he said, considering it. Somewhere in his brain, Kamukura had an  _ Ultimate Poet  _ sitting around. “Sooort of. Ultimate Poet is sleeping.” He was speaking metaphorically; that wasn’t how it worked. Hinata’s brain was just muddled from working in the heat all day. “‘S okay, I’d rather hear it from you.” Hinata shrugged. Komaeda hummed at that, his eyes crinkling, and shifted the thick book in his hands to hold it with both of them.

“Well, I thought that to pass the time, if you’d like, I would read some poems to you,” said Komaeda. He didn’t move from his spot, though, instead choosing to fidget with the book in his hands. “Of course, if you would rather not listen to my voice for any extended periods of time, which I would understand, I can just leave, it wouldn’t be a--”

“Chill,” Hinata interrupted again, grinning, albeit a touch sarcastically. Komaeda seemed to notice, because his own smile took on a sarcastic edge. “Think that sounds fine, Komaeda. Come pop a squat.” He gestured around at his workspace at large. “Maybe somewhere without any Nanami parts.”

Komaeda nodded at that, delicately picking his way around the mess that Hinata had made, and eventually sitting himself down on the floor, his legs tucked under him like they were in a dojo, or something, sitting on a tatami mat, rather than the wooden tiles of the workspace. Hinata watched Komaeda get comfortable for just a moment before turning back to his task, focusing his attention on the part he was working with. He heard Komaeda flipping through the pages of his anthology, murmuring to himself, and found a half-smile quirking his lips instinctively. Hm.

“You can read whatever poems you like,” Hinata said, offhandedly, putting down his screwdriver to work on the wiring. “I’ll trust your judgement since you probably like Dickinson if you have an anthology of her poems lying around.”

“Aha, is it that obvious?” Komaeda’s tone was wry. Hinata snorted. At least the guy was getting more comfortable around him again, if he was able to be sarcastic. He didn’t say anything in response, though, instead opting to glance at one of the photos of Nanami scattered around the space before getting back to his work.

After a while, Komaeda cleared his throat, and Hinata’s hand twitched in its spot.

“This poem is titled  _ That I Did Always Love,”  _ Komaeda murmured, his voice remarkably soft. Hinata thought,  _ you’re reading me a love poem, Komaeda?  _ but didn’t verbalise the thought; Hinata  _ was  _ working on a body for Nanami, after all. It made sense that Komaeda would be reading him a love poem.

There was a pause, and a brief silence settled, long enough that Hinata began to wonder if Komaeda was even going to read it at all, but then--

_ “That I did always love, _

_ I bring thee proof; _

_ That till I loved _

_ I did not love enough _

_ That I shall love alway, _

_ I offer thee _

_ That love is life _

_ And life hath immortality _

_ This, dost thou doubt, sweet? _

_ Then have I _

_ Nothing to show _

_ But Calvary.” _

Komaeda’s English pronunciation was remarkably crisp. Hinata found himself almost enthralled by the way that Komaeda sounded the words, still distinctly Japanese, but with enough fluency that he may as well have been speaking the language all his life. He had never heard Komaeda speak in English before, actually, and it was almost jarring, but not to the point that Hinata was broken out of… whatever it was, that the poem put him into.

And admittedly, he wasn’t all the way clear on what it meant. He understood that it was meant to be romantic, and that Dickinson thought love was… immortal, maybe? But Hinata’s head was a bit too muddled to really grasp the meaning in its entirety. He would have to do a second, maybe a third listen for that.

But it made his heart skip a couple beats regardless, hearing Komaeda speak of love, even in English. And then Hinata found that a bitter taste entered his mouth as his heart jumped around, guilt twisting in his gut that he was even  _ feeling  _ like that over something that Komaeda did when he was trying to work on a body for Nanami. He felt as though that poem should have been coming off of his own lips, directed towards the girl he was trying to revive, not… from Komaeda to him, as he tried to configure Nanami’s new brain.

Hinata’s stomach felt heavy. It felt heavy! His tongue tasted sour.

...But not anywhere near sour enough for him to tell Komaeda to stop.

* * *

It was 4am.

Well, almost. 3:56, to be exact, and 42 seconds, 43 seconds, 44 seconds… but the time was trivial. It didn’t matter, not to Hinata - all that mattered was what he got done, what he accomplished. His exhaustion was put on the backburner; sleep didn’t matter nearly as much as the task at hand.

It hadn’t been that bad, at first. He had been in the middle of circuit board wiring when his usual stop time came around, and couldn’t exactly stop right in the middle of it. When he had finished, it had let him neatly into another task. Since he wasn’t tired, he had convinced himself there was no harm to it - just something to keep him busy until he was.

That task had led to another, and another, until Hinata was using rest as a sort of reward, and amping up the win requirements constantly. As the light outside dimmed and faded into twilight, he would push the finish line back further and further -  _ I’ll sleep once I finish fusing these plates, I’ll sleep once I fix this wiring _ \- until exhaustion clawed at his eyelids and filled his limbs with lead. But he just kept working.

Kamukura, from some corner of his mind, quietly informed him that the rolling of his stomach whenever Hinata considered stopping was misplaced guilt over Nanami’s death. Hinata, ever proud and eager to repress, attributed it to a lunch that never settled.

He feverently ignored how he couldn’t make eye contact with any of the pictures around him; how he felt as if they were staring at him, judging him,  _ blaming _ him,  _ Why couldn’t you save me, Hinata-kun? You had two chances, and you failed both times. You’re pathetic, I think. _ -

“Hinata-kun?” 

Komaeda’s voice cut through Nanami’s; his, clear and sharp and  _ present  _ (and a little worried), contrasted blissfully with the echoing fuzziness of the girl’s voice inside his head. Hinata turned from his hunched-over position at the workbench, stiffened muscles protesting all the while, and saw Komaeda standing at his now-usual place at the door, just barely inside the room. 

It was 4:00 sharp now. 

Hinata knew he should say something - Komaeda was looking more and more concerned by the second - but his words were lodged in his throat. Thankfully, the other man spoke up first. “It’s uh… it’s late.” Komaeda’s voice was unusually low and even, and held a distinctive lack of self-deprecation.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Hinata managed, the words stumbling out hastily. He hoped his visible exhaustion was obscured by the shadows, with the only light in the room being the desk lamp conveniently behind him. He didn’t want Komaeda to worry. 

Or maybe he did, with the warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. But acknowledging the fuzziness made the rolling come back tenfold, so he shoved it down with the rest of his repressed emotions. 

“Oh, me neither.” Komaeda’s voice dragged Hinata out of his pit of repression. “I was actually just on the beach, trying to get back to sleep.” 

As he focused on Komaeda, he noticed how the moonlight filtering through the window whitewashed his pale complexion. He looked almost like a ghost, with his silver eyes and hair completing the monochrome.

He looked… beautiful. 

_ Fuck. _

“Far be it from me to tell you what to do,” Komeda started, hesitantly. “But…I’m being hypocritical, but I think you should get some sleep. I don’t want you to run yourself into the ground.”

There was so much concern, so much  _ care _ in Komaeda’s soft voice, and  _ god  _ it nearly took his breath away. But at the very thought of quitting, the guilt (he finally relented to Kamukura on that one) came back with such a vengeance he felt like he would puke. He couldn’t give up on her, not again. She deserved so much better than his two failures, and he’d be damned if he failed her again.

The guilt won out, in the end.

“I’m not tired,” Hinata eventually said, and even to his own ears it sounded woefully unconvincing. But Komaeda, for better or for worse, didn’t push the subject. 

“Mind if I sit with you for a bit, then?” he asked instead. “I’m not that tired either, to be honest.” Hinata could tell. Komaeda’s eyes were bright, and he looked more alert than Hinata felt. So he nodded, and Komaeda sat on the floor, legs crossed, like when he read Emily Dickenson to him the other day. 

Hinata tried not to think about it too much.

Komaeda made some idle small talk (if you filed “extensive praising and reverence of the ultimates and their recovery and bright, shining hope” under the category of progress), but Hinata hardly had the energy to reply. He settled for noncommittal grunts and hums as he tried to apply any remaining focus onto the mechanical parts in front of him. 

Over time, Komaeda’s voice faded and blended into a background hum. Hinata’s head was filled with lead, and his eyelids were heavy; he could hardly concentrate on what he was doing, and his movements were clumsy and sluggish. He felt himself drifting, felt the world grow darker at the edges. He didn’t want to sleep - he fought the oncoming wave with everything he had, but he was losing. Each blink of his eyes felt slower than the last, and he… he…

…

Hinata woke up with his cheek pressed against the workbench. His back was hunched over,and there was a dull feeling in his neck that he knew would become soreness in the morning. 

His thoughts were heavy with sleep, but he noted a strange warmth around him. It felt like a blanket was draped across his shoulders and back, but there weren’t any in the workshop, at least last time he checked when restocking supplies. Hinata reached a sluggish hand up, tugging the mystery cloth further over his shoulder to see what it was. 

The deep green of Komaeda’s jacket was immediately recognizable. 

Hinata’s face warmed at the affectionate gesture, and luckily for him, he was too tired to feel guilty about it. In fact, he was too tired to get up, either to get back to work or retire to to his cabin. He was too tired to do anything, really. Besides, Komaeda’s jacket was… really warm… 

Hinata slept better curled over a workbench than he had all month.

* * *

Hinata woke up about an hour ago with Komaeda’s jacket still tucked over his shoulders. Despite the heat of the late morning sun, he spent a while just laying there, breathing in the smell of raspberries (Komaeda’s conditioner, maybe? They hadn’t had any raspberries on the island for a while) off of Komaeda’s jacket, enjoying the weight of it over him, the feel of it against his skin.

Then he made eye contact with a picture of Nanami, and his heart rate spiked, and he threw the jacket off of him, feeling heat rush to his cheeks. It wasn’t the good kind of heat in his cheeks, though, not the kind that came up back in high school, when Hinata and Nanami used to sit together and play video games, and not the kind of heat that rose whenever he made it to dinner nowadays and Komaeda shot him a smile. It was an embarrassed, guilty flush, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Like by indulging in the comforting familiarity of Komaeda’s jacket over him, Hinata was somehow… betraying Nanami.

That wasn’t wrong, exactly, was the thing. Even if Hinata wasn’t smart enough to identify the pounding in his chest as he sat there, staring at the jacket where it lay on the floor, there was always Kamukura’s Ultimate Psychiatrist in the back of his mind, who whispered answers to all of his questions.

The thing was, though, Hinata couldn’t accept what Kamukura (what  _ he)  _ knew, because… because it would have been one thing, if Nanami was actually dead, actually gone, but she  _ wasn’t.  _ Hinata was building a body for her right then. He hadn’t been able to stop building a body for her, as a matter of fact. Nanami Chiaki wasn’t gone forever, she would be back, she would be back  _ soon,  _ (if Hinata had anything to say about it, at any rate) which meant that whatever his feelings for Komaeda were, he…

Well, no. He just couldn’t have feelings for Komaeda. That was the long and the short of it. He couldn’t betray Nanami like that. It wouldn’t be right.

Hinata’s heart stopped pounding, eventually, and he picked himself up, stretched a little bit, neatly folded and draped Komaeda’s jacket at the window sill, out of the sun so it wouldn’t absorb the heat. Then he stretched some more, worked out the cricks in his neck, in his back and his legs, before lowering himself to sit back down in front of the work bench, looking over his task from the night before in an attempt to pick up where he left off.

And then an hour passed, and the workshop was even warmer, and Hinata was a little bit dizzy. He chalked it up to the odd sleeping position, and the heat, and dehydration, too, because he hadn’t drank anything yet that day, and in fact couldn’t remember the last time he had. It was alright, though. He felt fine, really, so long as he was sitting down. Hinata resolved to wrap up this last section, and then he would take a quick bathroom and water break (maybe grab a banana from the restaurant) and then get back to work. There was no need for any real interruptions when he was getting into the swing of things.

As Hinata went about finishing up the section, there was a knock at the doorframe, and then a soft, “Hinata-kun?” which made Hinata’s heart leap far more than it reasonably should have.

  
If his face flushed at all as he looked up, he blamed it on the heat. Or embarrassment, that he fell asleep in front of Komaeda the night before, and that Komaeda had to give him his jacket. That was the only reason, it  _ had  _ to be, because Hinata couldn’t betray Nanami, he--

_ Oh,  _ Komaeda’s  _ hair. _

Komaeda had done his hair into a ponytail, and objectively (prattled Kamukura Izuru’s Ultimate Hairstylist) it was a messier style, with loose strands of white hair framing his soft features, brushing against his cheeks when he turned his head. But his curls tangled together in the style, ghosting over the nape of his neck, and he looked  _ good,  _ insanely good, to the point where Hinata couldn’t remember the guilt for a fraction of a second, distracted as he was by the style, by the slight smile on Komaeda’s face.

And then he  _ did  _ remember the guilt. He remembered it in full force.

“Yo.” Hinata found his voice after a moment, smiling up at Komaeda, despite himself, despite the way his heart pounded and his stomach churned. The roof of his mouth was dry for reasons entirely unrelated to any dehydration. “What’s up, Komaeda?”

“Uhm, well,” Komaeda leaned himself against the doorframe, smiling a bit wider, if also a bit more anxiously. “While you were sleeping last night-- and, ah, I really wasn’t trying to snoop around, so I’m sorry if I overstepped, I promise I didn’t disturb anything-- I noticed you had an empty water bottle under the workbench, and I thought I might refill it and bring it for you today.” Oh. “If that’s alright-- I understand if you’d rather not take water from someone like me, I’m really--”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Hinata interrupted, shaking his head. He was used to it, by then, really. “I appreciate it, Komaeda, that’s really thoughtful. And, uhm,” Hinata felt his ears warming a bit, his breath catching slightly in his throat, so he cleared it, and shook his head quickly, “thanks for uh, leaving your coat behind. That was nice of you.”

“Oh! It didn’t overheat you, did it?” Komaeda seemed a bit anxious, which was typical of him, but it was as though he’d been ruminating on this one for a while. “I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but, ah, you just looked so awkward that I-- I mean! I didn’t meant to call you awkward, I more meant that your positioning was--”

Hinata found himself laughing, slightly. “Komaeda,” he cut in, again, giving Komaeda a smile. “It’s really fine. I appreciated it. I thought it was sweet.”

Sweet? He thought it was sweet? Hinata’s heart did a little hop and skip in his chest, and at the same time his stomach twisted with guilt.  _ Nanami. Nanami. Nanami. _ He couldn’t help but keep his gaze on Komaeda’s face, the way his ponytail brought out the clear grey of his eyes, and the way his smile (which had relaxed by then) made them crinkle at the edges. He was so lovely, in a way that Hinata found it difficult to articulate, and it… mmm. Hinata was really bad at not betraying Nanami, huh.

“Anyway, uh,” Hinata cleared his throat, “the water?”

“Right!” Komaeda nodded, eagerly, padding over and holding out the bottle. It was wet with condensation, Hinata saw, opaque ice cubes clicking each other on the inside, but Komaeda had wrapped it in a hand towel, likely to keep it from dripping on all the parts that were scattered around Hinata.

It was… another, remarkably thoughtful gesture.

Hinata’s fingers brushed against Komaeda’s hand when he took the bottle, and it was as though he was in high school again, accepting the gameboy from Nanami in front of the fountain, because his heart raced and his chest buzzed, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to sit here with Komaeda while he worked on Nanami’s body, to talk to him, to see him smile, and laugh, even, just. To spend some time together. Hinata wanted to keep looking at that ponytail of his, and reassure his insecurities about overstepping, and learn more about his love for poetry. It felt important. It felt right.

And in every way it also felt impossibly wrong. Hinata didn’t have to look at a picture of Nanami to feel bad about it, this time.

Komaeda shifted his weight. “So, uhm.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his mechanical hand, seeming apprehensive. Hinata wanted to soothe the anxiety. “Would you like s--”

“Actually, Komaeda,” Hinata cut in, and his blood rushed so loud in his ears that he had to avert his gaze, “I think I just need to be alone right now. To concentrate on the work, y’know?” It wasn’t true; Hinata could concentrate perfectly well with Komaeda there. The work was more manageable with Komaeda there. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do that to Nanami. It wasn’t fair.

(Though he wasn’t sure whether he meant that it wasn’t fair to him, or it wasn’t fair to Nanami.)

“Thanks again for the bottle,” he added, looking up at Komaeda, smiling. “And for leaving your jacket.”

If Komaeda was hurt, he didn’t show it. It was almost worse than if he  _ had  _ expressed some form of hurt. Komaeda just gave Hinata a wide smile. “Ah, of course! Any time! I would hate to get in Hinata-kun’s way!” And before Hinata could correct that, deny it, Komaeda was halfway out the door. “If you ever need anything, feel free to call upon me, alright? I’m always happy to help an ultimate such as yourself!”

“Komaeda--” Hinata began.

“Especially you, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda smiled at him, from the doorway, his eyes all crinkly, and god,  _ god,  _ he was beautiful. “I’ll see you around!”

Komaeda moved quickly, and was gone before Hinata could even remind him to take his jacket.

And somehow Hinata didn’t feel better at all, even if he was sure that he had done the right thing.

* * *

Nanami was with Hinata today. 

Well. Sort of. She had asked about his progress on the body, so he had set up the laptop in his workroom so she could see for herself. After he had showed her the blueprints, the body so far, and discussed his next steps, the conversation had drifted into small talk - that is, until she asked about her human counterpart.

It had taken Hinata by surprise. Part of him had always known she would ask about it someday - you can only learn so much about someone through the memories of others - but he hadn’t expected it to happen right then and there. He had agreed, of course; AI Nanami deserved to know, and talking about human Nanami helped him work through his sorrows.

He started out with the basics: her personality, hobbies, habits, likes and dislikes. Most of which Nanami already knew from her data, but Hinata needed to take it slow, bridging from small talk to remembrance. Then told her about how they met, and how that fountain became  _ their place _ , where they played games after school until sundown.

When Hinata’s eyes started to burn, he switched to the stories the other Ultimates had told him. Chisa carrying Nanami to class, console in hand; finding her fast asleep in the oddest of places; the gaming tournaments that she always won, but at the same time brought everyone together. Each story led to another, and he found himself on a winding tangent of nostalgia.   
  
“And  _ that _ is why she punched Hanumura across the room..”

Nanami’s laugh was tinny and muted, coming from old computer speakers, but the soft, gentle tone of it made Hinata smile. “It seems like my human counterpart cared very much about her classmates.”

Hinata’s smile turned somber, and he felt a small ache in the back of his throat. “Yeah… yeah, she really did.”

“I’m glad I inherited that from her.” 

“Mm.” Now that he was coming off the emotional high of the aphrodisiac story, the grief started to crawl back from where he had casted it off. The grief brought guilt, its closest friend; guilt from the past and guilt from the more recent Komaeda troubles. He shifted his attention to his current project, hoping his turmoil wasn’t too obvious. He didn’t want to drag down Nanami’s mood. “You should ask the others for stories sometimes. They saw her a lot more than I did.”

Nanami hummed. “Maybe I will.” There was a beat. “But I like hearing you talk about her. It sounds like you cared about her a lot. I think.”

Not for the first time, Hinata thought about how uncannily human the AI was. She wasn’t exactly like the living Nanami, but she was pretty damn close - her quirks and mannerisms, her compassion, her ability to see right through you. All of them were so  _ right _ , that for a moment, if he ignored the buffering and the pixelated edges, he could pretend Nanami was right there, alive. 

“I did,” he started, and the words tumbled out in a rush. “I did care about her. I cared a lot, and not a day goes by where I don’t think about her, and I-” The feeling was even stronger when he glanced up, and  _ she  _ was looking right back at him, and it was  _ her _ eyes in  _ her _ face with the same hairpin that was in his pocket. “I really miss you.”

They both caught his mistake at the same time, but Nanami beat him to the punch. “I get it now.”

“Get… what?” Hinata’s voice was small and unconvincing. 

“Why you’re working so hard on this project.” Hinata wanted to retort that he was working hard because it was important (which it was) and urgent (which it wasn’t, because it would take months upon months even without all-nighters.) But Nanami, ever stubborn, barrelled on. “Hinata-kun, I am not the girl you loved.” 

Hinata balked at the word “loved”. Deep,  _ deep _ down, in the most repressed of his repressed emotions, he knew she was right - but to have it just thrown in his face like that was jarring.  _ Especially  _ coming from her.

Nanami’s words were soft but firm as she continued. “I think you feel guilt over Nanami-san’s death, and that this will make it up to me. That this will bring back the girl you loved and lost. But, Hinata-kun… I am not that girl. And I never will be.”

Hinata was at a loss for words. In a few sentences, all of his heart had been stripped from his chest and laid bare. He felt open and vulnerable and  _ sad _ , because Nanami was right. She was saying all of the things he knew but hadn’t had the strength to admit. “Nanami, I…” 

“I do appreciate your effort,” she said quickly. “With the android body. It will be nice to move around again. But… you don’t have to push yourself so hard.”

“I-” Hinata lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes. His voice was low when he spoke. “I… never got to apologize.” 

Nanami didn’t say anything for a moment, and in anticipation he began to try and gauge how much he screwed up. 

“For what it’s worth…” Nanami’s voice was just as quiet. “I forgive you. Even though there’s nothing to forgive.” 

Hinata couldn’t breathe for a moment. There was a lump in the back of his throat, and tears pricked at his eyes; he feared he would break into sobs if he tried to speak, so he didn’t, opting to merely look back at the computer screen.

Nanami was smiling. “She would have forgiven you too. I think.”

The trademark uncertainty in such a serious situation made him laugh. It was short, choked, and watery, but it was still a laugh. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, trying to clear the tears, before he said, “I think I can learn to accept that.”   
  
“Good,” Nanami said. “So now you can go tell Komaeda-kun how you feel, right?”

Hinata nearly choked.   
  
“Wh-Wh-...  _ What _ ?” he spluttered, not because she was wrong (he was long past denial at this point) but because  _ how did she know? _

“It’s obvious that you have some sort of feelings for him. I could even see it during the simulation.” Nanami’s exposing him in such a deadpan way was beginning to get old. “I assume you never acted on it because of lingering feelings for Nanami-san?”

It was jarring hearing Nanami’s AI refer to someone who Hinata still half considered to be  _ her  _ with an honourific, but he didn’t remark upon it, didn’t acknowledge it, because he knew that she was right. About not being the girl who Hinata loved, (loved..) and about that, too, his feelings for…

(He thought about the way that his heart had leapt when he saw Komaeda’s hair tied back the other day, the warmth in his chest when he woke up underneath his jacket, the fluttery way he felt listening to Komaeda read those poems. There was only one reason why Hinata could’ve been feeling so guilty in the first place, and Nanami had touched on it without even trying, without even meaning to, as she always did.)

Despite himself, Hinata found a smile stretching across his lips. “Yeah, uh, yeah,” he reached up to rub the back of his neck, and watched Nanami buffer for a moment before letting out a quiet giggle, her head tilting and her eyes crinkling with amusement at his bashfulness. She probably wasn’t used to it. The Nanami Chiaki from before would’ve been, after all those afternoons they spent together, but. This wasn’t her. Even if Nanami’s AI was just as important to Hinata as the real person was. “I don’t think that… they’re gonna go away, y’know. Even if it’s true that… you’re not her.”

“They don’t have to go away,” Nanami said softly. She gave Hinata a warm smile. “Feelings don’t work like that, probably. But you’re not betraying her by loving Komaeda-kun.” She paused for a moment, and tilted her head further to the side, her cheek squishing against her palm. “Or me.”

Hinata laughed at that, and he didn’t quite know  _ why.  _ His chest felt lighter, strangely, more fluttery. He was sure that part of it was just from the serotonin of talking to Nanami again, but. He couldn’t deny the affect of her reassurance, either.

He really did miss her.

“Thanks, Nanami,” he said, scratching his neck. “Seems like you always know the thing to say.”

“Me? No,” Nanami shook her head. “Only sometimes. Like, half the time.” She squinted. “Maybe a third.”

Maybe that was true, but in this case, Hinata really couldn’t have been happier with what she had to say.

* * *

Despite Nanami’s assurance that he didn’t have to rush the body, Hinata blinked himself into awareness at around two in the afternoon, working on what would be Nanami’s new neck (all the wiring was really difficult to focus on in the heat), baking under the mid-afternoon sun once again. He huffed out a sigh, reaching up to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead. This was infuriatingly precise work and his neck was aching. He’d have to go over and double-check all the work he did on auto-pilot just now, because for all he knows, it could’ve been a total disaster.

Progress was being made, though. He wasn’t  _ done  _ with the brain; it was way too complex for him to have finished it up even working on it non-stop over the course of a week, but he was taking a break from it, just to clear his head. It wasn’t much of a break, really, given that Hinata was working on other parts of the body to kill time, but it was easier on his head getting a change of scenery.

He thought that maybe he would jog over to Souda’s and have him look over the work he had done thus far, just for the sake of making sure that everything was done properly-- who better to peer review a robot body than the Ultimate Mechanic himself, right-- but right then, Hinata didn’t particularly feel like getting up and walking outside, especially when it was so hot he felt as though he was going to melt right out of his skin. Ugh. If there  _ were  _ any cool spots on the island, Hinata thought he might’ve taken a break just to indulge in one of them. If only for a while. This was exhausting.

There was a light knock on the open door, a familiar lock, and Hinata felt himself grinning, turning his head and looking up.

Komaeda’s smile was the same as ever, really, genuine but hesitant and a little awkward. There weren’t any ponytails today, nor were there green jackets nor water bottles nor anthologies, but he did have a glass of orange juice in his hand, and that, to Hinata, paired with its company, was as welcome a sight as any. For a moment he and Komaeda just gazed at one another, quietly, Komaeda’s mechanical hand still poised by the door as though to knock again, Hinata’s own hands still hovering over his work.

The moment seemed to last an eternity and a fraction of a second all at once. There was a sort of tension about it. One that Hinata didn’t entirely hate, but that he wished to do away with, if possible.

Then Komaeda’s smile shifted, and he spoke, effectively ending the moment. “Uhm, sorry, Hinata-kun! I didn’t mean to interrupt you-- really, I would’ve just come in and put down the juice and been on my way, so that you wouldn’t have been distracted, but, ah, I didn’t want to enter your workspace without permission, so.”

Hinata didn’t interrupt him this time, just waited for his voice to peter off, despite the fact that every part of him was itching to jump in and soothe his nerves. When Komaeda was done, Hinata cleared his throat. “It’s fine, Komaeda. I appreciate it. You can come on in,” he added, gesturing with his shoulder. Komaeda’s expression… was still hesitant, more so than before, but Hinata just smiled reassuringly, tilting his head a little bit. “Really,” he added, with extra emphasis on the word, so that Komaeda knew it was alright, that Hinata meant it.

“Alright, I will,” Komaeda said, smiling, a fleeting, anxious little thing, and as ever he delicately picked his way around the mess, leaning down to rest the glass of water by Hinata before straightening himself up again. “Is there anything else that I can do for you before I leave, Hinata-kun? It’s a hot day, and you’ve been working so hard in here, haha…”

“You don’t have to leave,” Hinata told him, pursing his lips slightly. Komaeda laughed at that, a little bit, interlocking his fingers in front of himself and giving Hinata a look that was equal parts incredulous and inquisitive.

“Don’t you need to concentrate on the work?” Komaeda asked, and Hinata felt slightly abashed, thinking,  _ ah, fuck.  _ Of course that was where Komaeda’s mind went. Hinata had had his reasons for telling the guy to take off last time, and of course he hadn’t really been in the  _ wrong  _ for requesting that he be alone, but still. When Komaeda didn’t know why it was that Hinata was kicking him out, it probably hit on the rejection sensitivity dysphoria a bit harder than it would’ve otherwise. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way of an ultimate like yourself, you know, especially since you’re preparing a body for someone as wonderful as Nanami, so I think that…”

When Komaeda trailed off, Hinata hummed a little, wondering if he was expecting to be interrupted. That was a fair presumption. Regardless, Hinata waited until he was sure the other man was finished speaking before he spoke himself. “I concentrate better when you’re here,” he said, a touch bluntly, giving Komaeda a serious look. “I kicked you out last time because… uh,” he looked over at one of those photos of Nanami, trying to gather his thoughts properly so as to respond well. “There were some things I hadn’t sorted out yet emotionally, and I… needed to do that.”

Komaeda let out a little hum of his own, the anxiety in his expression relaxing a little bit. He seemed more thoughtful, then, and Hinata would have been lying if he said he didn’t like the way a bit of self-assuredness looked on Komaeda’s features. “Did you sort them out, then?”

“Sort of,” Hinata said, and it wasn’t a lie. “There are still some specifics I’ve gotta work out.” Mainly concerning Komaeda, whether or not Komaeda even  _ reciprocated  _ his affections, whether or not he would even allow Hinata to get close to him in that capacity considering his circumstances.

There was only one way to find that one out, though.

“Lot of them relate to you,” Hinata admitted. “And I don’t wanna go over the lot  _ right  _ now, but I really would love the company. Didn’t lie to you about that one.” He smiled up at Komaeda, squinting a little bit because the way the sun caught on Komaeda’s white hair was almost blinding. It was lovely, though -  _ he _ was lovely, standing there, looking at Hinata so curiously. He’d been taking care of Hinata that whole time, and Hinata really wanted… to return the favour, among other things.

After a while, Komaeda smiled, and nodded his head, slowly lowering himself down to sit cross-legged. “Okay, then,” he nodded, smoothing out a crease in his jeans. “I’ll happily keep you company if that’s what you want, Hinata-kun!”

“It’s what you want too, right?” Hinata frowned a little bit, wrinkling his nose just a touch. “I don’t want to force you to stay somewhere you don’t want to.”

Komaeda laughed at that. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, I promise. Even if you are the Ultimate Hope, the reason I came is because you’re Hinata-kun.” He gave Hinata a slightly edgy look. “I hope that isn’t too forward, I really wouldn’t want to overstep.”

“You’re not overstepping at all,” Hinata promised. He smiled, looking down at his work for a moment, and then back up at Komaeda. “Not at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> BETCHA NEVER SAW THAT COMING HUH
> 
> look at us!!! nova and toxic!!! collabing!!! because sun deserves ONLY THE BEST!!! which apparently is only half komahina and half hinanami. we have no impulse control. but!!! have some recovering hajime!!! some pining!!! some of that good angst and grief
> 
> anyway!!!! happy birthday sun!!!! we love you so so much!!! i know i speak for the both of us when i say you've been such a wonderful part of our lives. talking with you and writing together is always so much fun, you're so funny and creative, and just being your friend is something we're very greatful for. keep being the amazing and awesome person you are <333
> 
> comments and kudos are appreciated!!! have an amazing day!!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Waking Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26233024) by [StudentOfEtherium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StudentOfEtherium/pseuds/StudentOfEtherium)




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